


Smoke & Mirrors

by chooken



Category: Westlife
Genre: Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Bisexual Male Character, Blow Jobs, Boys Kissing, Casual Sex, Cigarettes, Crossdressing, Crossdressing Kink, Dancing, Eavesdropping, High Heels, Kissing, M/M, Makeup, Making Out, Marcky, Self Confidence, Slow Dancing, Snogging, Undecided Relationship(s), toilet sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-07
Updated: 2015-03-07
Packaged: 2018-03-16 17:03:35
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,132
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3496124
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/chooken/pseuds/chooken
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Nicky loses a bet and has to show up to an afterparty in drag.  It may not be as much of a disaster as he thinks.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Smoke & Mirrors

Nicky felt fucking ridiculous.

It hadn't even been a playoff match or anything. Just a stupid fucking low-level skirmish. But he'd gotten competitive, hadn't he? Said that Leeds would absolutely take West Ham down that week. They had the better team. It made sense.

So they'd been talking about it on the radio. It was the last question, after the droning enquiries about stools and ballads and covers and whether they still saw that Brian lad who had quit like two years ago now and did anyone even give a shit any more? How is it being gay, Mark? It was fine. Nicky knew it was fine, because he'd been fucking Mark fairly regularly for about six months now, and he could quite happily say that Mark being gay was pretty excellent.

It had been a bit late in coming. He'd known Mark for years, had danced around him a bit there at the beginning, but he'd had a girlfriend. Well, now he didn't. They'd been on the cusp of getting married, running into the whole starting a family thing, and then it had just... fallen through. Nothing all that dramatic, but it was just like after over a decade of being together, almost that long of being constantly on the road, constantly unreliable for basic domesticity, the whole thing had kind of collapsed inwards under its own weight, nothing left inside to support it.

He'd been gutted at the time. She was his best friend, after all, and things had been more or less working until then. But, in hindsight, that was all they'd been doing. Working. And that wasn't enough any more, not for either of them. She didn't ask him to quit, wouldn't have dreamed of it, but they were both pushing thirty, looking to settle down. It didn't appear that doing that with each other was on the cards, not while he was still doing the boyband thing.

So they'd politely ended it. And then Nicky had begun to notice Mark again.

It wasn't an immediate thing. Mark had come out not long before, done the public thing like ripping off a band-aid, and then gone back to being available, just for a different segment of the population. Not much else had changed, really, but Nicky quickly began to notice the difference. That he stood taller and straighter, that his laughter was more open and sweet and a little bit more sarcastic and confident than it used to be. That he was picking up, finally, after years of lurking around the corner of the bar glancing under his lashes at blokes he wasn't allowed to have. That he dressed differently, like he wasn't trying to hide anything under a plain shirt and jeans.

That Mark was seriously sexy.

It was a bit of a shock, really. Nicky had never denied the fact that he liked guys, not to himself anyway, but there'd been no reason to air it publicly while he was in a long-term relationship with a girl. The others knew, in an abstract way, but he doubted they really thought of it either, apart from once or twice when he and Mark had casually checked out a good-looking lad at the same time, realised the other was doing it and had a bit of a guilty, knowing laugh.

And then one night they got drunk.

It always bloody started with that, didn't it? Everything was going fine, and then we got drunk. And then we got back to the hotel. And then Mark popped over to see if he'd left his jacket in my room. And then he accidentally dropped his keys. And then we both bent to pick them up at the same time and butted heads. And then his lips were right there, so...

And then I ended up getting bent over a mini-fridge by my bandmate.

It had been pretty fucking fantastic. He'd considered not mentioning it again, after that, figured Mark might be a bit embarrassed or regret the whole thing. Not so, apparently, which was proven when Mark showed up again two weeks later, at two in the morning, and Nicky had ended up sucking him off, just for the hell of it. Mark returned the favour, because he'd always been polite, and then...

Nicky wouldn't call them a couple. They weren't bandying about the 'L' word or going on dates and snuggling backstage. He did love Mark, he always had. They had a good friendship. It had just been... enhanced.

Bloody hell, had it been enhanced.

He had a feeling the others knew, but if they did they didn't really say anything. He'd caught Shane rolling his eyes when they were sneakily slipping off for a shag, but what were they going to do, turn a hose on them to keep them separated? They weren't hurting anyone, they were discreet, and Nicky was getting pretty spectacularly laid into the bargain. He hoped it was spectacular for Mark too, but that sudden breathless groan he always made right before he came was proof enough to go on, for now.

Still, it was Mark who was leant over the bar right now, falling over himself in hysterics. All because Nicky had gotten competitive over a football game that didn't even fucking mean anything. Because some radio announcer had said those golden, shit-stained words 'I bet' and Nicky hadn't been able to help himself.

“Yeah, well if West Ham win I'll go to the after-party in drag.”

It had been a stupid thing to say. The words had stumbled out of his mouth before he'd even realised, and then all of a sudden it had been on. Terms were being set. They were pushing the damn commercial break back so they could have this out. He was on national radio, everyone listening while his three best friends and one idiot disc jockey decided that if West Ham were to beat Leeds that he would be wearing – would be _required_ to wear – a dress in the West Ham colours, heels, and full makeup.

The crew had been nice enough to keep tabs on the score throughout the show, and by the time Nicky hit the encore he knew it was all well and truly going downhill. Every time he ran down for a costume change, someone would shout 'West Ham up by one!'. Then 'West Ham up by two!'. And then he'd run back to the stage, blurt out a couple of lyrics, and try to figure out how he could possibly get out of this one.

Someone had managed to find a dress in the West Ham colours. He didn't know how they'd done it, was sort of hoping everyone would forget just long enough for this to blow over, but he'd been stupid enough to say it live on radio with half the public listening. It was an event. The fans were talking about it online. It had been reported as a fluff piece on the evening news.

So here he was, stood in a wine-red strapless dress cinched in with a thin pale blue belt. There was a petticoat under here somewhere, something made of itchy gauze that pushed the knee-length skirt out to look a bit like a sassy housewife from the 'fifties. One of the girls had done his make-up. There was a lot of mascara, and he kept licking his lips, hoping he could somehow manage to surreptitiously chew off the dark pink gloss. It made his tongue taste waxy, though.

The worst were the heels. They matched the belt, but were far less comfortable. He'd just entered the function room, managed to make it down the hall, and despite the fact that the entire room was turning to look at him, he didn't think he had nearly the coordination to bolt into the toilets and hide.

A camera flash went off. Then another. And then he figured 'fuck it' and struck a pose. Or as much as he could when he was trying to stand on strappy heels that could have doubled as torture devices. They'd offered him stockings to cover his hairy legs, but a line had to be drawn somewhere and he wasn't bloody doing it. Or at least, he'd thought about bloody doing it, then had a fight with them when they'd gotten twisted and started to make his balls feel like they were being garotted. He hadn't even gotten into the second leg properly before there'd been a ladder up his thigh. He'd wrenched them off and thrown them across the room.

The cameras went away after a bit. It was a private party, so they were all crew or friends and family. Still, he did wonder how many of those photos were accidentally going to end up in the morning papers.

He tottered slowly across the room towards the bar, feeling like he was walking on stilts on a dinghy in a storm. He collapsed gratefully onto a stool, feeling the sudden scratching crush of petticoat mesh under his arse. Kian watched, laughing when he wriggled to get more comfortable.

“Hey babe, buy you a... oh.” He teased. Nicky rolled his eyes, gesturing at the smirking barman to bring him something stiff and manly.

Speaking of, Mark was coming over.

“You look lovely.” He said, his eyes dancing with laughter. Nicky reached down, adjusting the top half a little bit. It was reasonably tight, so it wasn't falling down or anything, but he did sort of have to watch the way he breathed or sat in case the whole thing started to slip. Mark reached over, getting his own drink, and then wandered away. Nicky watched him go, feeling strangely bereft.

A hand landed on his shoulder. He turned to look, pouting when Shane recoiled. Then realised the pout probably went with the lipstick far too well and throttled back a little bit.

“Jesus, that's weird.”  
  
“Yeah, thanks Shane.” He sighed.

“No, I mean... you look like you, but you don't.” Shane studied him, squinting slightly. “I don't know. I know it's you, but if I saw you on the street I think I'd just keep walking. Apart from the hair of course.” Nicky shrugged. It had been his one hold-out, keeping his hair in its usual style, swept up into the same careless short quiff he'd been sporting for the last year or so. The make-up girl had offered him a wig, but they hadn't agreed on it in the radio station and Nicky refused to go above and beyond in this stupid, pointless farce he was being forced into. “You look quite pretty, actually.”

“Yeah, thanks Shane.” He said again. Shane laughed, his cheeks turning slightly red, then grabbed a vodka from the bar and left.

The night passed extraordinarily slowly. Everyone suddenly wanted to talk to him, had to come over and ask some asinine question or make some inane comment. Yes, he'd left his balls in his other purse. No, he wasn't secretly enjoying it a bit too much. Yes, he did know which bathroom to use tonight. No, he hadn't accidentally checked himself out in the mirror.

Lads kept buying him drinks as a joke though, so that wasn't all bad, even if it was an open bar and they didn't have to pay anything anyway.

He needed to pee, so he stumbled into the mens. There was a brief fight with the petticoat while he tried to figure out how to hike it all up at once and try to aim with a cloud of red fabric and white mesh in the way. He considered using the stall, but that seemed even more difficult, so instead he got to stand at the urinal, the front of his dress folded up, hem tucked into the belt that he was starting to think served no purpose but decoration, one arm bunched up under the petticoat, the other trying to point his dick in the general direction of the trough while he tried not to fall off his heels.

“Need a hand?”

Nicky jumped, almost turned to look at Mark, and nearly ended up peeing on his own feet. Mark was leaned in the toilet doorway and looking gorgeous in a black suit with a purple tie. He looked painfully relaxed, far more than Nicky did anyway.

Nicky finished up and shook off, tucking himself awkwardly back in and trying to smooth the dress down over everything once he was done. Mark was still standing there, studying Nicky, lips twisted into a smirk.

He was about to stride back out when Mark stopped him, putting a hand up. Nicky paused, wondering what was going on.

“You're all twisted. Here...” Mark reached out, pinching the top of the bodice with his thumb and forefinger, giving it a little yank until it sat straight again. He put his hands on Nicky's waist, adjusting the sit of the belt slightly, then reaching up again to fix the top, straightening up the crooked seams running up Nicky's sides. “There you go.”

“Fixed?” Nicky asked, leaning back to glance at himself in the mirror. It was really odd. Shane was right. It was his face, but not his face.

“Yeah.” Mark bent his knees slightly, dusting the swell of the skirt over Nicky's hips and straightening out the wrinkles from Nicky's fairly awkward attempt at using the bathroom. “You'll make some bloke very happy one day, love.”

“Yeah, fuck off.” Nicky rolled his eyes, laughing when Mark raised an eyebrow, reaching out to touch his cheek. “You gonna make me your kept woman or something, are ya?”

“Hadn't really thought that far ahead.” Mark smiled, glancing around for a moment before reaching out to cup Nicky's cheek. He pressed into it, despite his embarrassment, one eye fixed firmly on the door in case they were interrupted. “Keep your figure and we'll see how we go.”

“You only want me for my looks.” Nicky pouted. Mark chuckled.

“Well, it's not the sparkling conversation.”

“Oh, you think it's okay, don't you? Keeping me as your trophy missus and then sneaking off with other lasses while I slave away in the kitchen.”

“Trophy? You think you're some sort of prize?”

“Do you?” Nicky asked. The hand on his cheek slid down to his neck, Mark leaning in slightly.

“I definitely won something.”

Mark licked his lips. Nicky tilted his head, feeling his breath quicken. He wasn't sure where this conversation was going, suspected it was about to get potentially serious quite a bit sooner than he'd hoped. Like, five years sooner. Still, he was being backed towards a toilet stall and didn't have any complaints about that, not when Mark's other hand was tightening on his waist, thumb stroking underneath his ribs.

“You know what I haven't done in a long time?” Mark murmured. Nicky shook his head, felt his back collide with the stall door, then push it in. “Made out with a lass in the toilets at a party.”

“Did that a lot?”

“Little bit. Been a while, though.” The door was pushed closed behind them and locked. Nicky reached behind, nudging the toilet lid closed so that his dress wouldn't fall in. It was taking up a bit of room, was tilting forward when the back met with the wall Mark was pressing him against. It was all bunched up, flattening out against his legs and itching badly, his feet trying to find balance in the heels. Then balance didn't really matter because Mark's hand was stroking down his thigh, yanking it up so Nicky's bent knee was against Mark's hip, and kissing him.

“Oh.” Nicky managed when he finally came up for air. Then it was swallowed again. Soft lips forcing over his, a tongue plunging hard into his mouth. He was wobbling on one leg, trying not to slide down the wall and away from Mark's lips, but then Mark was grabbing his other thigh, hoisting him up against the wall and stepping in to crush against him, Nicky's arms looping around his shoulders for a bit of support.

“So hot.” Mark whispered. “God, you look so fucking _pretty_.”

“Jesus.” Nicky breathed, claiming Mark's mouth again. He could feel an erection, through all the fabric bunched between them, and reached a hand between them to scoop the dress out of the way. The front of it was crushed between their chests now, probably getting badly wrinkled, but he didn't care. Not when Mark was hard against his groin, their cocks held apart by Nicky's underwear and Mark's suit pants.

“We need to leave. I need to fuck you.”

“God, Mark.” Nicky groaned, pushing against him as much as he could with no leverage. One leg was out, heel braced against the opposite wall, the other dangling from Mark's hand. The grip under his thighs was shaking, almost painful, but he didn't care when there was a sexy, sweaty man grinding against him, making him want it so badly. “Fuck me.” He urged, not knowing how they were supposed to do it in here. He just knew his skin was tingling and he was impossibly hard. His dress was sliding down his chest, one nipple peeking out. Mark hoisted him a little higher, head ducking to bite it, sending a jolt of pleasure through Nicky.

A door slammed open. They froze as someone came into the bathroom. Two someones, talking and laughing with each other. He didn't recognise the voices offhand, which was even more of a reason to freeze. To not be caught out. Mark's mouth was still on his nipple, but he pulled away and let Nicky's slide down a little, holding him against the toilet wall. Nicky grabbed his shoulders harder, feeling Mark's hands start to shake under his weight.

“Can you believe he did it?” One voice was saying.

“I definitely can.” There was a laugh. “Probably likes it, to be honest. Always thought he was gay.”

“You think? He was with that lass for years.”

“Yeah, but, you know. Bit pretty, isn't he? Reckon he'd take it up the arse like a right slag.” There was a snort of laughter. “None of my business, of course. Sure this isn't the first time he's popped on the heels though.”

They were laughing still when they left the toilets, the door slamming behind them.

Mark put Nicky down slowly, letting him get his balance. Nicky sat down on the toilet lid, ripping off the heels in frustration, the thunder on Mark's face hard to ignore. He didn't know if he felt angry himself, just sort of defeated. Mark crouched down in front of him, his eyes flashing with wrath.

“You okay?”

“Yeah. Fine.” Nicky mumbled, putting the shoes down on the floor. His feet felt a bit better at least. He rubbed one, smiling when Mark began to rub the other. “Sorry. Moment's sort of gone.”

“It's fine.” Mark let go of his foot, his hand settling on Nicky's shoulder. It was a warm, comforting hand, soft against his tense muscles. “Do you want to leave?”

“No.” He frowned. They hadn't even said anything all that offensive, had they? People probably questioned whether they were gay all the time. He knew the fans did, he'd seen the photoshop efforts some of them made with he and Shane. They kind of laughed it off now. It was just one of those things.

And fuck it, he did like taking it up the arse. It was great.

It had just felt so... diminishing. Like he was a tiny thing that could be dissected in five minutes over a drunken pee by two people so meaningless he didn't even recognise their voices.

He reached down to pick up the heels, resolved now. He slid them back on, fumbling a bit with the straps, then stood up. Mark helped him tidy himself up, his thumb running over Nicky's nipple briefly before he tugged the dress back into place. It was a nice touch, not necessarily sexual, and they smiled at each other, Nicky looping his arms gently around Mark's neck, their heights almost the same with the heels boosting him up.

He fixed his make-up – his lipstick was kind of smeared – then helped Mark remove the lipstick that had become smudged over his own mouth. Not that he needed it, not with those gorgeous, cherry red lips.

Then Nicky went out to the dancefloor.

It wasn't easy dancing on the heels, it was more of a general stepping sway, but he managed it. Was determined to, at least to show that he didn't give a shit. He was feeding more rumours, maybe, but as he found himself dancing with Shane and Kian, Mark raising a glass at him from the bar, he found he didn't really care. He even jokingly wrapped his arms around Kian once the music slowed down, getting a playful shove and a laugh.

He wound up on a couch in the corner about an hour later, his feet spiking with pain, legs spread comfortably, and a beer in one hand, talking to a couple of guys from the lighting crew. A girl from wardrobe came over and joined them, giving Nicky a couple of tips on how to walk in heels without giving himself a hernia. They practiced together a couple of times, Nicky's arm around her shoulders while she showed him how to roll his foot properly. Then, once he got the hang of it a bit, he went back out to dance.

The place was clearing out a bit now. He checked his watch, a big waterproof one that he'd kept on despite it clashing with his outfit, which was getting badly creased as the night went on. He wasn't sure how much he'd had to drink, but he was having a good time, especially when Mark came over to dance with him.

“Thinking of getting out of here soon.” Mark said. Nicky nodded, twirling just to watch the skirt flip out around him. Mark laughed. “You staying or you want to split a cab?”

“Dunno yet.” Nicky looked around. The party was still going, but was starting to slow down a bit now. Everyone was snuggled up together around tables, and there were only a few other people on the dancefloor. The music was more chilled, slowing down into some R&B from the more dancey stuff earlier. It changed as they stood there talking, moving into a low, slow beat that wasn't for anything but snogging.

They both stood still for a second, Mark's eyebrow cocked, then Nicky took a deep breath and closed the gap between them, his hands coming up to rest on Mark's shoulders. After an awkward moment that felt much longer than it probably was, he felt arms encircle his waist. There was a soft titter of laughter that rippled across the room, barely audible, laden with surprise. Nicky ignored it, looking up.

“This okay?”

“It's fine.” Mark was going a little red, but there was an encouraging smile under his bitten lip. “What's the agenda?”

“Nothing. Just wanted to dance with you.” Nicky leaned back a little bit, not wanting to make it too obvious. He had a feeling most people would still pass this off as a joke. It maybe was, a little bit. “Let them think what they like.”

“So you're dragging me into this?”

“Do you mind?”

“No, not really.” Mark pulled him in a little closer. They weren't touching, the distance between them filled by the curve of Nicky's skirt, thought it had gotten flattened out quite a bit over the course of the night. His skirt was all lumpy and misshapen and he'd spilled champagne down it at one point. “People are going to think we're a couple.”

“Are we?” He didn't know what made him ask. He didn't even know if he wanted to be a couple with Mark. He liked him, yeah, and the sex was good, but the friendship was more important. Not just for the band. He liked being friends with Mark. Mark made him laugh, and worried about him when he was sick, and enabled the stupidest parts of his personality. Mark made him feel like it was okay to just be himself.

“I don't know.” Mark pursed his lips. “Not yet.”

“Not yet?”

“I don't know, Nix.” He glanced down, taking in Nicky's dress, flicking up to study his made-up face. “This is a weird time to talk about it.”

“When do you want to talk about it?”  
  
“I don't know that I do.” Mark sighed, pulling away a little bit. “This was going really well. I don't want to overcomplicate things. It's too risky. I don't want to go making promises and then find out I can't keep them. Or that you can't. We're not... there yet.”

Nicky nodded. He understood. “Okay.” He pulled Mark back, his arms tightening until he could lay his head on Mark's shoulder. There was a murmur of surprise around them, circling the room. Nicky had a feeling everyone was watching them, and when he snuck a peek he realised there was no-one else left on the dancefloor.

The song ended. Another one started. Something more upbeat. They separated, stepping back from each other. Nicky bent in a joking curtsy, laughing when Mark gave him a slight bow.

“I'm ready to head off.” Nicky said softly. “You want to split a cab?”

“Leaving at the same time? After that?” Mark smirked. “People will talk.”  
  
“I don't really give a shit.”

“No, me either.” Nicky took the elbow Mark stuck out, leaning on it when his feet started to complain badly. “Come on, let's get you out of that dress.”

The cab ride was sort of awkward, and Nicky was sort of glad the hotel was just down the road from the club. They probably could have walked it, but he really didn't feel comfortable sashaying down the street in an increasingly uncomfortable dress, especially not in these shoes. He took the heels off in the cab, rubbing the stiffness out of his feet. Mark gave him his jacket to cover up a bit against the night breeze, and sat next to him looking gorgeous in a black shirt, his purple tie slightly askew, cheeks flushed a little bit with drink.

Mark paid the cab driver. Nicky didn't have room for a wallet anywhere in this dress, so he'd left it at the hotel. They took the lift up, Mark's arm around his shoulder for a bit of comfort while he focused doggedly on the feeling of carpet squishing between his toes instead of the sickening weightlessness of the rising elevator.

He tossed the heels in the corner, then collapsed backwards on his own bed in the dark, feeling utterly exhausted. Mark followed him in, blocking the glow from the corridor for a second while he stepped through the doorway, then closed it, putting the key in the slot to turn the lights on. Nicky blinked in the sudden brightness, holding his arms out in invitation when Mark climbed on top of him, crouching over him on knees and elbows.

“Hey.”  
  
“Hey.” Nicky smirked, reaching up to unknot Mark's tie. He slid it off, beginning to work at buttons, sitting up a little to kiss each little patch of skin that was revealed, teeth tugging playfully at chest hair. He got the buttons undone, then yanked the tails out of Mark's trousers, sliding his hands up a warm, broad chest, fingers playing at hard nipples. Mark moaned softly, one hand coming down to undo his own belt. “You're going to have to help me get out of this thing.” Nicky urged, lifting his hips in invitation.

“Leave it on.” Mark breathed, kissing down his neck. “Let me fuck you in it.”

Nicky swallowed. “Or we could do that.” He gasped, arching into the mouth on his collarbone.

One hand slid under his skirt, cupping him through his underwear. The briefs were gone a moment later, then Mark was pulling back, lifting up Nicky's skirt, and disappearing from view while his mouth sank down on Nicky's cock.

“Yes.” Nicky gasped, pushing up into that tight, engulfing heat. Fingers slid up the inside of his thighs, tickling, then back to undo the button at the back of the petticoat. Mark pulled away for a second, yanking the heaped layers of netting down over Nicky's legs and off, and then he was back, Nicky's knees bending up in the sudden wealth of space, feeling Mark's hair tickle the inside of his thighs.

He could see Mark's head bobbing, tenting the fabric, and reached down to yank the skirt up, his head rolling back when challenging, greedy eyes fixed on his. Mark let out a determined growl, his lips sinking down lower, hand squeezing the base.

“Fuck.” Nicky managed, then, as though it had been some sort of suggestion, Mark was pulling off to spit into his hand and pushing two fingers in, his mouth back around Nicky's cock a moment later. “Fuck.” Nicky whimpered. He felt on fire, totally overwhelmed by the ruthless pleasure this gorgeous man was bestowing on him. Another finger was added a moment later, stretching him wider, faster, and Nicky had to bite his lip to stop himself being heard by the whole floor.

The top of his dress was starting to slip, but he couldn't be bothered fixing it. Was twisting while he writhed on the bed, sliding down to bunch around his waist. Mark was moving faster, was sucking him deep, his cheeks hollowed in a way that was unfathomably obscene, eyes looking up like he was just daring Nicky to make him stop.

“Fuck me.” Nicky pleaded, arching when he felt his toes curl around his impending orgasm. “God, Mark.” He gasped. Mark drove down hard, his throat convulsing when he tried not to gag. “I want to come with you in me. Please...” He moaned when those lips let go, red swollen lips slicked with spit. Mark got rid of his trousers, then knelt up, yanking Nicky's hips forward, the dress bunching up around his waist. He leaned over, stretching to grab a condom from the side table, and rolled it on.

“You look so fucking pretty.” Mark murmured, one hand grasping his own cock and lining it up against Nicky's entrance. The head pressed against him, making him twitch, making him want it. It rubbed slowly against him, just nudging in slightly and pulling back out. “God, you look like such a slut. Just... just ruined. I'm almost done just looking at you...”

“So stop looking and fuck me.”  
  
“Can't.” Mark bit his lip, still rubbing gently against his entrance. He closed his eyes, as if praying to someone somewhere. “God, I'll go right off the moment I'm in. I'm too...” He gasped, looking down at himself. “I'm so fucking hard.”

“Yes...” Nicky hissed, sitting up a little bit. Mark was hard, so hard, and Nicky was almost a little impressed. A little flattered, even, that Mark was this close just for him. He reached up to grasp Mark's shirt collar, tug him gently down. Administer teasing kisses that barely skated those soft, damp lips. Mark was groaning into his mouth, cock still rubbing against him. He could feel himself clutching against it, hungry for Mark inside him. It dipped in a little, making Mark whimper, then back out. Then in, just the head, going a little deeper again.

“You're so tight.” Mark whispered, his thumb running around the shaft, over Nicky's entrance while he tried to control himself. Nicky kissed him again, pushing a thumb between them and rubbing it over Mark's bottom lip, pushing it into his mouth while he suckled at the top lip. Mark groaned, sucking hard on the thumb like he was trying to focus, Nicky's nail scraping the roof of his mouth. He slipped in a little more, hand guiding himself, and they both let out a low moan. Nicky could feel himself close too, especially when the heat of Mark's mouth, wet around his thumb, suggestive of where that mouth had been only minutes before. He reached down to stroke himself, feeling Mark shiver when he tightened with pleasure.

“Close.” Nicky groaned, pushing down a little bit without meaning to. Mark yelped, and then he was slamming in, hammering home hard and fast, his hands rucking the dress up around Nicky's waist while he took him hard, trying to fuck him before he ran out of time. It was hard, and brutal, and Nicky loved it, pushing down and stroking himself hard. Mark looked up at him, apologetic, so Nicky pulled the thumb out of his mouth and stuck it in his own before reaching down to run it around his own nipple, teasing. Mark gasped, hand clenching into Nicky's hair and yanking him into a hard kiss.

“Gonna come.” Mark's voice sounded tiny and far away. Nicky groaned, jerking himself harder, the head bumping Mark's belly on every stroke and driving him closer. “Nix...”

Nicky cried out just as heard Mark's sudden, breathless groan, felt the rush, the shuddering release while Mark's hands clawed at his hair, their lips sealing together while Nicky let go, felt himself splash up and onto Mark's belly, onto his own, his body soaring, back arching, hands fisting in Mark's open shirt. Out of breath. Toes curling, knees bunching up while he lost himself in the feeling of Mark inside him, around him, on him, with him.

“Nix...” Mark muttered, gaping mouth sliding deliriously down his cheek. He sat up shakily, pulling carefully out. Nicky winced, collapsing back into the bed when Mark's knees slid out from under his arse. He pulled off the condom, knotted it, and tossed it in the general direction of the bin, standing up on trembling legs. Nicky watched him, feeling boneless. “Need a smoke.” He mumbled.

Nicky laughed, sitting up and reaching behind to get to the zipper on the dress. Mark helped after a struggling, clumsy minute, pulling the material up straight against Nicky's back so he could draw the zip down properly. Nicky let the stained fabric fall, then kicked it off. Mark already had a cigarette in his mouth, dug out of the pocket of the suit trousers he had tugged back on while Nicky fought with the dress, and was heading for the balcony, not bothering to rebutton his shirt.

Nicky stumbled into the bathroom to get a glass of water, parched. When he looked up into the mirror though, he gasped for a second, then laughed, realising he'd completely forgotten about the make-up. He looked a mess, too, his mascara streaked badly under his right eye, lipstick almost entirely gone but for a messy pink stain on his bottom lip. He looked like a right trollop, and he washed his face quickly to clear up some of the muck, scrubbing at the eyeliner to try to get it removed. It didn't want to go, though. He wondered if there was some kind of trick.

“Use a bit of moisturiser in the morning.” Mark suggested. Nicky glanced over. He was leaned in the doorway, smiling. “I've got some in my room. It'll lift right out.”

“Thanks.” Nicky left it, wandering back out into the bedroom. Mark was buttoning his shirt up, giving himself a tidy. “You going to bed?”  
  
“Yeah.” Mark leaned in, giving him a friendly kiss on the cheek. “Day off tomorrow. Gonna get a start on the sleep in.”

“Good plan.” He headed for the door. Nicky headed for the bed, tugging the blankets back so he could get in. Mark's hand was almost on the handle. “Hey... do you have plans for tomorrow?”

Mark's hand paused. Nicky cursed himself. He didn't know what had made him say it. Just...

“I do, yeah, meeting up with some friends in town.”

“Oh.” Nicky climbed into bed, nonchalantly fluffing the pillows a bit. “Cool, well have fun.”

“I will.” Mark turned around. His lips were still red, his eyes sleepy. He smiled, a friendly, open smile that made Nicky want to invite him to stay the night. “But if you want to do something after I can come round about two in the afternoon?”

“Yeah. Okay. Only if you're not busy.”  
  
“I'll make sure I'm not.” Mark promised. He turned back around. “Night Nicky. Sleep well.”  
  
“You too.”

He wanted to say more. Didn't know what was appropriate, and by the time he came up with something that didn't make him sound like an idiot Mark was already gone.

He lay down, feeling his legs still itching from the petticoat, his feet ache.

“Night, Marky.”


End file.
